Lost
by schubskie
Summary: Kid Flash dies on a private mission he went on with Robin. How will Batman's protégé cope with the sudden loss of his best friend? Finished- 4/12/11: aka- Spring Break last year. I haven't read it since, so hopefully it sounds okay!
1. Chapter 1

Dick couldn't believe it.

He stood leaning on the hotel balcony, looking out toward the sea blankly. And he remembered why he was here; Bruce had said this vacation would take his mind off of things. Alfred was even here. But right now, Dick didn't want to talk to anybody. Anybody but Wally; but that wasn't possible now.

Dick still couldn't believe it. Even when he could vividly remember what had happened.

He and KF had gone on a mission by themselves. Maybe that had been the mistake. It was nothing special, just your average recon of information. There were so many people that Dick wanted to blame-the Justice League for not knowing the bomb had been there, the Mexican drug gang who had planted the bomb, but mostly he wanted to blame Batman for saving his own apprentice. And failing to save Flash's.

Come to think of it, that was the one person Dick wasn't mad at right now. Flash. Only he knew how painful this was, how horrible it felt to be without Wally. But how could they ever look at each other again without thinking of his nephew?

Suddenly, a memory came to mind. It was the day Kid decided to try out his new snowboard- on the water of Lake Runningway. It was stupid, really, KF had ended up putting too much speed on the thing and it shot forward so quickly it created the biggest wave you could imagine. The look on Al's face when he got wet was priceless. But everyone was just laughing so hard they didn't care.

"Master Dick?" A voice from behind him made Dick's smile fade and his memory vanished like mist.

"Dinner is ready," Alfred continued.

"I'm not hungry," Dick mumbled, looking down. The wind tussled his black hair and part of his jacket.

Alfred walked over, and Dick barely budged as he squeezed in next to him. "Would you like to talk about it now?" Alfred sounded as calm as ever. Ever since Wally had died a week ago everybody had been using their gentlest voices around him, their slowest of gestures, doing whatever they could to tiptoe around Dick…and he was sick of it.

"Why can't you have emotions for once?" Dick suddenly shouted. Alfred stood there calmly, so Dick continued. "Did it ever occur to any of you why I liked hanging out with him so much? You're all the SAME! You all don't feel anything, you're all just a bunch of feeling less zombies who don't get excited, or mad, or jealous…" He was now pacing the balcony, his hands up in the air. He suddenly stopped, his back toward Alfred.

"Master Dick, you would be terribly mistaken if you don't think I contain emotion," Alfred said. Dick's fists stayed clenched, his head down and his back still turned.

"We all miss him. But unfortunately death is a part of life-"

"You don't think I know that?" Dick suddenly turned, screaming again. "I got the same speech when my parents died, Al!" Tears streamed down his face.

Alfred walked forward and hugged him. And Dick was too sick and tired to move or push him away. So he just stood there, crying into Alfred. "I can't even remember them much anymore," Dick admitted, still a little choked up. "What if I forget him? Like I did with them?"

Alfred held Dick out, both hands on his shoulders. "You will_ not _forget, Master Dick. Wally will never forget about you, and you will never forget him. Always remember that."

Dick went back into Alfred, crying a little more. As soon as he had calmed down more, someone coughed in the doorway. Dick turned to see Bruce. Something in himself immediately hardened.

A moment of silence passed. "I'll leave you two to talk," Alfred nodded to each and then walked out. Dick and Bruce looked at each other while he did.

"How're you feeling?" Bruce finally asked, walking out.

Dick looked away, "Fine."

"You don't look it," he sat down in a nearby patio chair.

Dick sighed, then looked back at the composed Bruce. "Why did you let us pull off a mission by ourselves? Why didn't the League know about the bomb?"

"I already told you the answer to the latter; it didn't register on our scanners," Bruce said. He watched Dick like a hawk. Like some kind of intriguing experiment under a microscope. Dick hated it.

"Scanners? You trusted _scanners_?" Dick spat, "What happened to the Batman that _I_ knew, who actually _saved_ lives?"

Now something in Bruce hardened. "Dick, you know it was complete accident. You don't understand-"

"Oh I understand-"Dick cut him off, narrowing his eyes. "_You_ never liked Wally; you didn't care what happened to him,"

"Dick-"

"So if he lived, you'd say 'tough luck,'"

"Dick-!"

"But when he was presumed dead, you called off the search two days early!"

"Dick, there was no trace!" Bruce shot up, out of his chair. His chair clattered to the floor as the two stared each other down.

Bruce wordlessly turned and left. Leaving once again, a hurt and angered Dick.

* * *

That night dinner went on quietly in the Wayne's beach house. Nobody said anything, though Dick did steal a few quick glances at Bruce. He wasn't sure what he was looking for…another angry word? A tear? It didn't matter though; because nothing ever did happen.

Except later, in his room, Dick heard a knock on his door. He looked up from a magazine about something or other-he wasn't really paying attention. In entered Bruce.

"I'm sorry Dick," Bruce said. Something had changed in Bruce's tone, which caught Dick more off guard than what he had actually said. So, he continued to listen. But he looked back down at his magazine.

"I know Wally was a close friend of yours. Believe me or not, I listened to your stories all these years about you two running in and out of trouble together."

Dick swallowed, but said as strongly as he could, "Why didn't you ever say anything before?"

"Because nobody ever appreciates anything until it's gone," Bruce sighed, sitting down on Dick's bed. "Nobody but you, Richard."

Dick stared at the magazine page, the words and pictures jumbling and swirling together into something so interwoven that he could no longer distinguish anything. Did he really appreciate Wally as much as Bruce said?

'No trace', Bruce's earlier words echoed in his head. Dick squeezed his eyes shut, envisioning the explosion again. The atom-wiping, self-disintegrating explosion. No, there had been no sign of a red-and-yellow costumed redhead with a comedic attitude. No evidence of the green-eyed kid who laughed a lot.

"Are they done searching the site for any…remains yet?" Dick asked, eyes still closed. It was too hard to ask the flat out question of his best friend's remnants.

"Not yet; the League projects that they will be finished noon tomorrow." Bruce said. "But Dick,"

Dick looked up and over at him. "This was never your fault." He got up, leaving the room and turning off the light on the way out.

Dick dropped the magazine off the side of his bed, and turned over in his blankets. He thought about the advice he had gotten throughout the day- _You will not forget, Master Dick. Wally will never forget about you, and you will never forget him…..this was never your fault._

Somehow, he fell asleep, still hoping that they were both right.

* * *

Dick slept in very late the next morning, having gotten next to no sleep in the last week. Well, week-and-a-day now. He walked into the kitchen, dressed for the day, with as much excitement and motivation as yesterday on the balcony. But something was wrong; Bruce wasn't around. Though his coat was. "Where's Bruce?" Dick asked Alfred, who was promptly scrambling eggs.

Alfred looked back at him. "He had to take care of some business, Master Dick. The remains of your friend the League has been trying to find…were not found."

Dick's eyes widened a little. He checked the microwave clock. Then the oven clock. He looked at every clock in the kitchen and realized that they were all right; it was 1 pm. An entire HOUR after the time predicted the League would find what was left of Wally in the wreckage.

"What happened? How'd they miss him?" Dick said frowning, sitting in a chair at the table.

"Nobody knows," Alfred had gone back to cooking, "Master Bruce left to help them investigate. He knows how much this means to you."

Dick frowned, looking down. He suddenly thought of Flash. "Didn't Flash help with the hunt? Isn't he there?"

"Yes, and he is very upset. As you would imagine," Alfred turned and walked back to Dick with a plateful of sausage, bacon, eggs, and toast. Dick knew Al thought breakfast the most important meal of the day; and he knew he had worked very hard on it. So Dick took a few bites even though he wasn't hungry.

"Can we go there?" Dick asked, after a few attempts at the food in front of him.

Alfred turned, smirking, "I was wondering when you'd ask that, Master Dick."

Dick returned the smirk, only weaker, as he stood up to grab his jacket. He was going back.

* * *

The full weight of Robin's question came back and hit him hard when he finally arrived. The building-what was left of it- was located on the outskirts of Gotham City, which was partly why he needed to get away from his home in the first place. Quite a few members of the League were talking urgently, motioning toward the mounds of rubble and demanding answers from one another. Robin had never seen any of them worked up so much over someone like KF. Robin saw Batman right away, off to the side and talking with Flash. As if on cue, he saw Robin's car and walked up as Alfred pulled up in a grassy spot near the back; out of the public's eye.

Not that there_ was_ a public eye to watch this. The people of Gotham over the last week had either lost interest or had been asked to leave by various members of the League. Robin knew none of them had even the slightest idea of what had happened here anyway.

"No sightings, no trace," Batman was talking to Alfred through the window. Robin realized that he was missing out on the conversation that he had been waiting on all day. "Nobody knows what happened to him."

Robin slumped a little in his seat, looking out the window. What had he been expecting? Wally would just pop right out of the rubble, claiming that this whole thing had been a scheme of his, a trick? Was he hoping for him to still be alive? It wasn't possible…was it? He decidedly opened the door up and walked out to investigate. He'd find out himself what was going on.

Batman paused in his briefing to watch him go, then resumed.

Robin's feet led him to Flash, who was now talking to Wonder Woman. "Flash, I know where you're coming from and everything, but we must face facts; he's not here," Wonder Woman said calmly and carefully.

Robin could tell Flash didn't like that tone either. "Then tell me where my nephew is. He _has_ to be here. Where else _could_ he be?" He sounded desperate.

Robin coughed a little, to let his presence be known. The two supers looked down and over at him. "Robin, we didn't see you there," Wonder Woman started.

"Can I talk to Flash? Privately?" Robin asked. Wonder Woman nodded. "I'll leave you two alone," she walked off.

Robin and Flash watched her go before Flash looked down at Robin. "What can I do you for?" He had his hands on his hips. But his tone still hadn't changed since he had talked to Wonder Woman.

"I was wondering if you thought any of this was…strange," Robin sounded small.

"You're suspicious too? I knew something was fishy around here," Flash looked off towards the rest of the League. "I have a feeling that whatever went down our sensors won't be able to pick up on it."

"So you think they're hiding something?" Robin asked, suddenly interested. "You think our sensors are just off?"

Flash looked like he wanted to say something, but just sighed. "To tell you the truth Robin, I don't know what to think anymore. They're _right_; it _isn't_ possible for Wally to have survived that explosion alone."He paused, regaining his composure. "But we should have found a trace then…unless the explosion was so hot that there couldn't have been any possible traces," Flash's eyes widened the same way Wally did when he came to a realization.

Just then, a voice floated across the stretch of land, "Flash!" It sounded like Superman. Flash and Robin looked over. Sure enough, there was Clark Kent as Superman, standing near the rubble with a few other supers. He motioned for Flash to come over, "We need you."

Flash looked back at Robin. "Looks like I've got to skedaddle, kid," he sighed. "Will you be alright?"

Robin just nodded, not knowing what else to say. Flash put a hand on Robin's shoulder, before walking away. But Robin heard him mutter, "He was so young. I just wish it had been me."

* * *

Weeks went by. It seemed to Dick that everyone believed Flash's theory, and one-by-one, everyone just gave up. The world went on as it had always gone on. Dick went back to school; he walked home as always, studied as always, and fought crime as always. Dick received word somewhere around the second week that Flash came down with some sort of illness from the stress and depression of losing his only nephew and partner. In short, life sucked.

One day, when Dick had driven his motorbike to school instead of walking, he decided to take a detour home. He took a left at the place he and Wally used to meet up every day after school, then a right. He kept driving on, ignoring everything but the street he was on. And soon enough, he found himself back at the building site.

The site had changed a lot in the past few weeks- it was now a construction site. Builders and workers were just packing up for the day, the evening sun glinting orange off of the high metal beams and various tools. Dick hated it.

Just then, his phone rang. Dick dug through his bag to pull it out, checking caller ID first. It was the home phone; Alfred.

Dick answered it, "Hello?"

"Master Dick, where are you?" Alfred's voice came lightly over the phone.

"The construction site," Dick said. He didn't bother asking why nobody had told him they were now building on these grounds. He knew they didn't want to upset him anymore still.

There was a pause over the other end. "Dinner will be ready soon. We're having macaroni," Alfred tried to tempt him.

"I'm not hungry, Al, thanks," Dick was about to shut the phone.

As if sensing this, Alfred said "Master Dick, do you think he would have wanted you to be acting this way? Refusing to eat? Not sleeping? Letting your-"

Dick hung up before he could finish. He needed closure, not a lecture from Al.

One of the workers seemed to notice him then, so Dick thought it best to leave. He turned and sped away into the fast approaching and humid night, feeling just as crappy as the day Wally died.


	2. Chapter 2

Another week passed. Dick counted a total of four weeks since Wally had died. Flash was doing a little better, but not great. Dick felt the same. It was nearing autumn now, and for most people, the pleasant feeling of summer antics was now completely dead as well.

It was on one of these autumnal days that Dick came home to an empty mansion. Walking up the front steps, he dropped his house key on the small side table just inside, near the door. He found the note for Alfred's absence, reading it with as much interest as he had with everything lately-none. He knew Bruce was usually gone at this time of day, so he didn't bother wondering where he was.

After he dropped his backpack down too, Dick retrieved a soda from the kitchen and plopped himself down on the couch in the living room. Remote in hand, he turned on the expansive flat screen. Good thing Al was out of the house or else he'd be on his case for living out his days as a couch potato-something he'd been doing more of lately.

As soon as he turned the television on though, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," he muttered, even though no one was home. He made his way slowly to the door.

Dick couldn't believe it.

Standing before him was someone he hadn't seen in a long time; Roy. And not only that, but Roy was propping up a very familiar and very much alive redhead with green eyes. Wally grinned, seeing his old friend. "You look a little…'disconcerted'."

Dick wanted to cry. He just stood there, dumbfounded for a few seconds about to. But Roy promptly cut him off. "We'll explain everything when we get inside. Is Bruce around?"

Dick stepped aside for the two to pass, shaking his head. He still couldn't find the words to say what he wanted to say, or even begin to describe what he was feeling. Wally was alive. That's all he kept telling himself over and over again. Wally was alive. Wally was alive. Wally is alive…But wait, could it be possible he was dreaming?

"Dude, you coming?" Wally's voice sailed from down the hall…_Wally's_!

"Yeah, are you going to stand there all day or come hear how your friend survived?" Roy's cutting voice came from the living room too. Once again, Roy had interrupted Dick's thoughts. But he didn't care; dream or not, Wally was here and _alive._

He walked into the living room to find Roy still easing Wally down on the couch. He propped one leg and arm up on pillows…it was so weird seeing his fast friend lying so broken on the couch though.

"What happened? How did you get here?" Dick finally asked.

Roy turned, standing up instead. "It's a long story, is Bruce around?" He repeated.

Dick shook his head, "No, he's still at work."

"Call him."

Dick did as Roy bid and made his way to the phone quickly. He dialed Bruce's number, and waited for him to pick up. "Hel-"

"Bruce, he's back!" Dick's excited voice cut him off. "Wally's back and he's out our house!"

A pause. Then, "What."

"Hurry up! Get home!" Dick hung up the phone.

"Smooth," Roy commented from a chair with a smirk.

"Hey, don't forget I've been dead all this time," Wally chastised from his propped up position. Wally held up his fist, "Missed you too dude."

And without a second thought, Dick returned the fist bump with a grin.

And he knew that moment that he'd never forget this best friend. Ever.

* * *

Within 30 minutes, Alfred, Bruce, and Barry were gathered in the living room. Dick had been watching TV with an unusually quiet Wally, when Alfred came home, completely awestruck. Followed by a confused but still serious Bruce, and of course, an overjoyed Barry. Wally had to remind his uncle that he was injured when he hugged him too tight.

"Right, right," Bart said, taking his seat back in a leather chair. "So tell us! Tell us how you are here." His happy eyes were on his nephew, though they flickered to Roy as well.

Sometime before this the TV had been turned off and the room was quiet for a few seconds.

Wally attempted to sit up, which obviously looked painful, so Alfred helped him. "Well it all started when Rob and I got separated in that hallway…"

Dick widened his eyes. And he remembered.

* * *

"_I'll take right, you go left!" Robin shouted to his costumed comrade. _

_Kid Flash nodded, smirking, "You got it dude! Left is my middle name," He raced past another man and knocked him over on the way back. _

_Robin tore down the other hallway, followed by the other half of the guards. He remembered fighting his way through with a metal bar at one time, kicking and throwing batarangs at the bunch. Once he defeated them, he made his way to the controls room. This hadn't been part of the plan, and he remembered thinking at the time that Batman had told them not to separate. But I know I can hack this code and complete the mission, he thought, I just know it. And that's when he set to work._

_Dick remembered the moment Batman burst through the door, maybe five minutes later, shouting that they had leave. Because of the type of mission, radio silence had been necessary. So Batman naturally used the tracking device on Dick's watch to find him. _

_Dick remembered the short but harsh argument._

"_He's not here," he had said._

"_What do you mean he's not here?" Batman demanded, "Where is he?" _

"_We separated, he's-"_

"_Dick, I told you specifically-"_

_Dick remembered him stopping short and grabbing his arm. _

"_We've got to get out of here."_

_Dick remembered reaching back to the controls, as if thinking they'd might help find his missing friend. Little did he know, he was already lost._

* * *

"…lost," the same word brought Dick back to reality, and out of his thoughts.

"That's what I was," Wally was still talking. He cleared his throat and Alfred brought him a glass of water. He looked up appreciatively and continued on after he took a drink.

"I couldn't find an exit. So I was running through the building, trying to find an escape when…I found the bomb," he said. "It was in the boiler room, with two seconds left. So naturally I did the only thing I _could_ do. Jump."

"Wait, out the window?" Dick asked, his first words in a long time.

Wally nodded, coughing. "Yeah, out the window," his face held a weak smirk, as if thinking how ridiculous he must have looked. "It was like one of those actions movies. The thing…detonated behind me as I jumped out."

"That was the only thing you could do," Barry cut in, obviously enwrapped in the story. He seemed worried, "Then what happened."

"That's where I came in," Roy nodded, holding two fingers up as he cut in rudely. "I just so happened to be walking by, wondering how this whole mission was going to work out. I saw him jump from the building and land four stories down."

Dick winced, as if it had happened to him.

"When the smoke cleared, there he was…not much else to say. Unless you want me to mention the blood and stuff. He was a mess," Roy looked at the people collected in the room. His gaze rested on Bruce last.

Bruce narrowed his eyes, "Go on."

Dick imagined the scene again…the clearing smoke, some rubble on Wally…his broken bones, wounds, and stillness…

He closed his eyes.

Alfred seemed to notice this, and looked over. But Wally had already seen his friend, and was frowning too.

Meanwhile, Roy went on.

"I took him back to my place. I won't tell you where it is, but I can promise you he was in good hands."

"What made you bring him back now?" Barry asked.

"And I hope I'm not interrupting," Alfred said, "But pray tell why you delayed in letting us know of his safe proceedings?" Alfred looked at Dick, so he knew the question had been for him.

Roy shifted, "Simple. We didn't know how he'd turn out," he looked at Wally, who was frowning off into space. "Even with the best doctors, the best medical care…" He paused, looking out across the room to everyone. "No use telling everyone if he wasn't going to make it, right?"

There was a pause in the room, where Dick looked at his friend, but Wally was still staring off. What was he thinking about? And was it just the trick of the eye, or did he look even _paler _and more in _pain_ than before?

Bruce looked at Dick, then looked back at Roy. "Let's talk in my office-"

"No, it's ok," Dick nodded back to Bruce. "I can handle it." He straightened his back and put on a more steady face to prove it.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "Alright." He turned his attention back to Roy, "Extent of his injuries?"

Roy took a breath in, "Six broken bones including four ribs, his left leg, and right arm. One collapsed lung-his right- and a six inch cut on the shoulder-"

Wally's movement interrupted Roy, as his face strained when he tried to get up. Barry jumped up, "Wally-"

"I just need some air," he explained, still trying to pick himself up off the couch. He was having a particularly hard time to move his left leg up and over the pillowed cushion.

Alfred immediately helped him get up again and let him lean on him for support. "Might I suggest the backside deck?" he prompted.

Wally nodded, forcing a smirk, "Sounds great. Thanks."

Barry was still halfway out of his seat when Alfred helped Wally leave the room. Dick watched him go with equal interest.

"Richard, you can go," Bruce's voice came subtly from behind him. Dick turned to see Roy out of his seat. "We'll take it from here."

Dick nodded this time and got up, walking out.

And he hoped his friend's wounds were the worst of his injuries.

* * *

Wally had been helped onto one of the porch chairs on the deck. It was strange to Dick, really…not the fact his friend was at his house alive, Dick had already gotten over that. But that he was sitting in such ornate furniture with such a serious frown…well that was entirely something different. He was hardly the Wally that Dick knew.

Alfred slipped back inside, nodding to Dick as he came out.

Then, silence. Dick started to think Wally was mad at him.

"Are you mad at me?" Dick asked, straight out.

"Mad at you? Why should I be mad at _you_?" He answered. For a second, Dick could imagine the face of the cheerful Wally he knew. But when he walked over, he saw differently.

"I don't know…you just got mad in there, I thought I-"he began.

Wally looked up from his solemn frown and his face broke a little. "Dude, you did what was right. I feel like the stupid one." His green eyes were hard.

Dick was startled, "But it was my idea to split up and then I didn't try to find you. I wanted to crack the code and-…why are you laughing?" He stopped, puzzled when Wally spontaneously laughed.

Wally smirked at his friend, "I knew you were gonna blame yourself, Rob. That's why I _had_ to come back."

"That's why you 'had' to?" Dick echoed, still a little confused.

"Oh yeah, Roy didn't tell you that part did he?" Wally laughed. "Yeah dude, I had to. I kept bugging Roy because I _knew_ you were going to keep blaming yourself. I kept saying 'He takes after the old bat Roy, it's in their blood' and he yelled at me every time about how you two 'weren't related', and that's when I'd feign 'dizziness'…" Wally made quotations around the word 'dizziness'. He shrugged, "And then we'd just do it all over again the next day. He finally cracked," he grinned.

Dick laughed; this was the Wally he knew. He pulled up a chair to sit next to his best friend, "Then why are you mad?"

Wally looked away, and Dick was afraid he had hurt his feelings. "Sorry-"

"No, it's okay," Wally turned a little so that Dick could see Wally's face more. He didn't look mad this time, just hurt.

Dick waited for him to say more. And he did.

"I just got mad at myself, I guess. I mean, I'm one of the fastest guys alive-which I shouldn't be by the way-but I am…and I couldn't get away," Wally wrung his hands while he talked.

"Dude! don't say that!"Dick said, astonished. "You _should_ be alive. You deserve it! What happened was pure accident; I'm only here today because Batman found _me_!" He assured his friend.

Wally smiled weakly, shrugging and wincing when he did. "Maybe. I know Uncle Barry would've done better though. He would've done something else besides jumping out the window four stories up," he half-scoffed.

Dick had never seen Wally's pride hurt so much.

There was a small cough then, and the two twisted around in the chairs to see Bruce in the doorway. "Dick, mind if we have a word?"

Dick jumped up, "Sure, I'll be right there-"

"I meant with Wally."

Dick shot Wally a surprised look, but obeyed Bruce with a nod and ducked back inside.

Bruce replaced him, walking out. Wally had turned back around in his chair, unsure of what to say. "…What did you want to tell me?" He finally asked, still not making eye contact. He remembered suddenly why Bruce had still been inside, "I know my injuries are bad, but they don't hurt that muc-"

"That's not what I came to say," Bruce cut him off, still standing. He paused, "I just want to let you know how proud I am of you."

This caught Wally off guard completely. His green eyes widened, and he turned in his chair to look at Bruce. "'Proud'? _Why_?"

Bruce nodded to him, "You did what was right; you saved yourself and got out of there in time."

"I made everyone worry though. I made them all think I was dead because I couldn't do any better," Wally fell back into his melancholy state, looking downward. "I failed."

"You didn't fail," Bruce looked at Wally with an intense gaze. He continued to watch him like a hawk as he sat down, taking Dick's chair. "If anything I did."

Wally looked at him funny, so Bruce continued. "When I swore to protect the people of Gotham, I didn't mean just Alfred, or Dick, or any one person-"he gestured, "But everyone. Though that also applies to friends and family."

Wally thought about this for awhile. Bruce was surprising him more and more by opening up like this. Did he really consider him part of the family now? Did he really blame himself for what Wally thought was his own screw up? "I need to think about this," he finally stated after awhile.

Bruce nodded and stood up, signaling his exit. He paused by Wally's chair though. "As you get older, you realize you aren't the only one who depends on you. Everyone you care about does too."

And with that, he walked out.

* * *

Wally thought about this now too, in addition to his ongoing other thoughts. And after a few moments, he grinned. He shouldn't feel all that bad about what had happened. He'd done it, and survived it all. And once more, Batman, of all people, was proud _of_ him. That was something. He'd _always _be needed.

Equipped with a new sense of pride and self-worth, he leaned back in his chair a bit and winced as he propped up his shoes on the guard rail of the deck. Still smiling, he closed his eyes.

…From behind the glass sliding doors, Bruce watched with the faintest of smiles.

Behind _him_ stood Barry. "That was beautiful Bruce," his peer congratulated him. "You really have a way with the kids."

Bruce half-turned. "I only did what was necessary. From here on out he's yours," but as he said these words, he was still smiling slightly.

Barry watched him for a few seconds, as Bruce slipped away to rejoin the others in the main living room. Alfred was just bringing out a fresh vegetable platter and Roy was entertaining him by eating a carrot.

He then sighed, looking back out to his once again alive and happy young ward.

Then, with a small smirk, Barry looked up at the ceiling and whispered, "Thank You."


End file.
